Failure
by LeopardFang
Summary: Gabriel wondered how long he had been here and when he had lost hope. Actually, Gabriel wondered quite a lot recently and he wished he could get answers. He wouldn't though, not ever. The reason being he will never escape this place, or the pain that comes with it. At least, that's what he thought at first. It's just tragic that his knight in shining armor came to late.


**Before I even start, I would like to say I tend to use some language in my fanfic's. More so in the Author's Note than the actual story, but it's still there. It's not that colorful language, but it is there and if that offends you then you're free to go ahead and back out of this fanfic.**

 **First of all, I HAVE A COMPUTER ONCE AGAIN. Now, the computer isn't the wonderful one I had before. I had to get a new one because apparently my motherboard fried itself, but I can now post stuff once again. This means that today I will be posting a hell of a lot today, not on this but on other stories.**

 **I would like to go out and say that actually watching Supernatural I've only seen up to mid-season five. But I have read what happens as much as I can, and watched a bunch of Youtube videos about Supernatural. I'm sorry if because of this the characters seem to OOC, I would also like to point out that this is an AU, so don't expect for it to follow the storyline of Supernatural.**

 **But back to this story. This is Sabriel, as you should already know. I myself do not ship Sabriel, but people are free to ship it if they please. Don't worry, I'm not one of those people who try to hack down other ships. The reason I wrote a Sabriel fanfic even though I don't ship it, was because it was my friend's birthday and she requested 'A VERY DARK Sabriel story with major character death.' So here is my attempt at that plot bunny. Below are the warnings/possible triggers, they have major spoilers for what you are about to read but I decided to go ahead and post them for you all. You don't have to read them if you don't like to basically know what is going to happen, but if you are afraid of possibly being triggered I suggest you go ahead and read it.**

 **Warnings: Blood and gore, Torture, Suicidal thoughts, Suicide attempts, Major Character Death.** _ **(Just because I wrote a story about someone considering suicide doesn't mean I agree with suicide, nor that I myself am facing the dilemma of life myself. It is just something I have in my story, not anything related to me in particular.)**_

 **I would also like for you all to know that this is the first posted Supernatural fanfic I have. So I'm sorry if it's not as good as some of the other fanfic's out there. It's my first official try, so please don't go off and flame me. Criticism is fine as long as it's something relevant and actually about the fanfic and not just something like "UR SO FUCKING STUPID, THIS STORY IS SO FUCKING HORRIBLE." Because that does nothing at all and will be ignored.**

 **Anyways, this is from Gabriel's POV (Point of view). That means all below the author's note has nothing to deal with me personally, it is just how I portrayed Gabriel's opinion. So go ahead and read.**

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The room used to be white. There was a white floor, a white ceiling, four white walls, a white door, a white light. Even the clothes I wore and the handcuffs and chains I was locked in were white. Back then, I had mocked it. I had mocked that they thought the whiteness would affect me, that they thought It might drive me mad. That I might think I was some crazy person locked up in one of those old white rooms. It had seemed so stupid back then, the whiteness.

Now, I just wished it was white.

If it was white then it wouldn't be the colors it was now, it wouldn't be so stained. The splatter of scarlet wouldn't coat the walls, the thick puddle of a red so dark it was almost black wouldn't be at my feet, the few golden feathers wouldn't lay there were they had been ripped off. Maybe if everything was white, I could pretend I was insane. I could pretend I was only thinking that this was happing, I could pretend that this is all just some sick fantasy and not reality. But it wasn't white. Not anymore. I wondered how long I had been here. It had probably been months, maybe even years. It was hard to tell, considering I had no way to tell. It's not like they were going to tell me the time and the date.

I remembered having hope. Hope. What a strange thing hope is. It can seem so absolute at first, like a rock. Over time though, hope fades away. That rock erodes till there's nothing left. I wonder sometimes, when I had lost hope. When had that spark of hope left me? When had that voice whispering in my head not to give up withered up and died? That's what had happened, I had given up.

I had given up.

I had already given up so much. I had lost so much. I lost my family, my friends. I lost everyone I ever truly cared about. They all either died, betrayed me, or realized I didn't deserve them. I thought I had lost everything, but I hadn't. I had still had the will to live. Now I had lost that to. All I wanted now was to die. I wanted all this to be over. I didn't want to live if all it meant was more pain, more torture.

I had tried to die. It had been hard to find a way. After all I am hung up like a dead deer about to be gutted. All three pairs of my large wings are stuck in their physical form, and they had been wrapped in chains and pinned to the ceiling above me and the wall behind me. My arms are stretched up above me, my hands handcuffed together with chains leading them up to the ceiling. My ankles are cuffed together, my feet hanging inches above the floor. Then the answer had come to me, so blankly obvious that I had been surprised it had taken me so long to figure it out. It was really simple though. I simply had to stop breathing.

So I held my breath.

I held my breath until my fingertips had gone numb and a darkness had lurked at the edges of my vision. I held my breath until I began to feel faint and my body fell completely limp. But then I had opened my mouth and sucked in a deep breath. I had breathed and breathed and breathed until the numbness had faded and my vision had cleared. Maybe it had taken a moment longer than normal for that to happen due to the raggedness of my breaths, but that didn't really matter because I had breathed. Then I had kept breathing, in and out and in and out and in and out. I had failed to kill myself. I had failed. I was a failure. I failed at everything. That's okay though. Because I won't fail next time. Next time, when I try to kill myself it will work. My plan this time is definite.

I just had to wait for my torturer to come back.

Shivers of anticipation wove around me like a spider's web, blending seamlessly with the trembling of my emancipated frame. It had surprised me at first, when I had begun to get scrawnier. After all, I was an archangel so I didn't need food. Then I realized that I hadn't only been posing as the trickster, I had actually _became_ the trickster. Which meant I actually needed sugar to survive. It wasn't as if my torturer was actually going to get me some sugar, at least not until I was on the very brink of starvation then I'm sure he would shoot it in my blood because he wants me to suffer not die.

It seemed like forever before my torturer came back. I didn't know much about my torturer but I knew was that he was an angel. I didn't know if he was a fallen angel or if he was working on orders. His appearance was seared into my brain. He had dark grimy hair that hung in front of cold emotionless eyes, and a pair of slim cream-colored wings that he fluttered out behind him visibly as if to point out that his were free and mine were not. I also knew those scarred calloused hands that beat me and that slim angel blade that sliced me, I knew these all too well.

The angel stepped closer to me, the blade clutched in his hands expertly. He stepped forward, twisting the blade sideways. I watched as the blade glinted in the light as it reached the skin right below my ribs. He moved his wrist to the right just the slightest bit, causing the skin to slice my skin straight off to expose a few inches of the flesh underneath. Blood seeped from the wound, sliding across the tattered remains of the shirt that had long ago been stained red, and dripping into the puddle of blood that already lay beneath my feet.

He moved the blade again. The tip of the blade was now an inch inside a wound that had just began to heal from the session before this one. The pain was agonizing, and I couldn't stop the soft whimper from escaping my lips. The man smirked at the whimper, but his eyes didn't spark with as much as acknowledgement, much less the look I had gathered would go with a smirk. I wasn't surprised though, his eyes didn't ever spark. They never did change from that emotionless stare that seemed to see right to the shattered soul hidden deep beneath my skin.

He turned the blade over and then began digging it in another inch. I let out a grunt, struggling to focus as the pain drug my mind away from the task at hand. I blinked and narrowed my eyes, it was time. I sucked in my breath, sending my chest sliding out of the knife, and the man took it as I expected. He moved the knife closer to me so that it was once again slipping in my wound. My head was spinning at this point, and I found it even harder to concentrate. I had to concentrate though, I had to not fail this time. I had to kill myself and this was my chance.

My fingers twisted above me, struggling to find the chain that lead to the ceiling. My fingertips gripped on it, and I forced back the urge to stop what I was doing immediately. I watched as the man slid the blade in a little more, seemingly forgetting that I had sucked in my breath. I then stuck out my chest as far as it could go. My chest slid into the blade, sending the blade deeper into my chest, so that I successfully stabbed myself quite deeply. I gripped on to the chains, to keep my body steady while I struggled to expand my chest even further.

The man reacted instantly, jerking the blade out of me. But it was too late, the damage had been done. My blood was gushing from the deep hole that I had caused, it rushed down my skin in scarlet rivulets. I let my body fall limp, the handcuffs once again digging into my wrists as the weight of my body once again fell upon them. The man leaned forward and hastily undid the handcuffs, probably so that he could get someone to sew me up before I lost too much blood. My hands dropped to my sides when the handcuffs were unlatched. My wings snapped as my body weight and the weight of the chains was put upon them, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was going to die, I lost too much blood.

I had finally done something right.

My vision had darkened around the edges in a way that had almost became familiar, and then my vision blurred so much that I couldn't really make one shape out from another. My head felt like it was stuck with cotton balls, and I found it hard to focus on anything. My body slumped downward even more as the last of my strength left me, sending a resounding crack of my wings echoing in my pounding head past the ringing in my ears.

Then there was a sudden click, and the pressure wrapped around one of my wings loosened then disappeared completely. It sent the limp wing hanging of my back limply, the jagged edge of it just barely brushing the grimy floor. It was one of my smaller wings, but it looked even smaller than normal with half the feathers missing and the remaining feathers soaked in blood causing them to stick to the torn flesh underneath. Another click followed the first, followed by a grunt and a sound of a chain clinking against another chain. Then my other small wing was released, and it joined the first, dripping down to the opposite side of me and forming almost the same position as the first. There was another sickening crack as the remaining wings were stuck keeping up my weight by themselves, but I ignored it.

I was only vaguely aware that it was freezing. I was even less aware of the fact that my eyes had slid closed and my head had rolled limply onto my shoulder. I wasn't aware of the clicks and the clanks of the chains above me as the rest of my wings were released, and I wasn't aware of the soft thud that followed each click. All six of my wings were released, and my ankles had been untied, but that didn't matter now. The splash as my body fell into the puddle of blood didn't matter. It didn't matter that I was splayed out on the floor, my limbs tangled in my broken wings and my head placed against the sharp bone that stuck out through the torn flesh of one of my arms. It didn't matter that there was this growing puddle of darkness that flowed from me, a puddle of scarlet red liquid so dark that it looked black. It didn't matter that my very essence, my very grace, had begun to seep from the wound. It didn't matter that white was seeping past the dark, and it didn't really matter that my wings had begun to sear in a burning sensation.

Nothing mattered anymore.

My vision almost cleared for a moment, just a single moment of clarity. For a moment I could almost swear that those eyes of my torturer had softened and filled to the brim with guilt and regret. Then the pupil's expanded in fear, almost taking over the grey-blue shade that filled his irises and the snow white that shone beyond. A moment later, the light was chased from his eyes. They dulled and faded and became lifeless. A moment later though, my vision faded to black, and I doubted that any of that had actually happened.

Then there was a sharp call of pure anguish, and a sharp gasp of shock. Then there was something cold on either side of my cheeks, and it took a while for me to gather that they were hands. I instantly jerked my hands away, assuming they were just someone trying to harm me. Why couldn't he just let me die in peace? Then there was a soft voice that sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. Confusion filled my mind, my jumbled thoughts trying to make a connection between the voice and the familiar hands that were once again on either side of my face. Then the comforting voice filled the silence, "Hey, Hey, it's me. It's me."

My eyes jolted open, to find a pair of beautiful eyes peering back at me. They were a warm brown, flecked with the brightest green known to man. I gasped as the other facial features fell into place, and I realized that this was Sam. Sam had been so full of rage when I last saw him, he had this rabid look in his eyes that I usually associated with an animal. He had lashed out at me without moving a muscle, he had called me a monster and a murderer. I had backed away, unable to hide the hurt that seeped from me. Then I had turned and ran, only to be captured and locked up and tortured by some angel. But that was in the past now, Sam's gentle touch and his shattered words showed me that he hadn't meant a word. He still loved me.

 _He still loved me._

I realized that I was propped up now, my chest falling limply against his and my head resting in the crook of his neck. I leaned into the comforting touch, and tried to wrap my wings around us because of some primal instinct I didn't remember. Only some of my wings worked, and even fewer actually made it to their required position, but I did what I could to wrap him in a feathery embrace. He sighed against me, the warm breath brushing against the side of my face and sending a few strands of my grimy hair loose to flutter in the air around me.

He was crying then, big rough hiccupping sobs that shook my whole frame. I found it ironic that I was the one bleeding out and he was freaking out more than me. I didn't mind though, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was here, I wasn't going to die alone. For a moment I regretted my decision to jerk forward into that blade. I should have waited for Sam. I should have known Sam would save me. I shouldn't have given up. But it didn't matter because I couldn't change this. I was going to die and Sam would have to live without me.

Sam had started muttering apologies and so I leaned in close and shoved my lips against his to make him shut up. His lips tasted of sweat and salt and blood and dirt, but I didn't care because he was kissing me back. His soft lips molding against mine perfectly, as if they were meant to be together. After a moment I pulled away, because now blood was gurgling past my throat and pooling inside my mouth. I unfolded my wings away from him, so that they would not burn him as they disintegrated down to ash. Then I leaned away from him and tried to swallow the blood that had filled my mouth. The tangy metallic taste burned me like acid, but it almost tasted sweet like the candy I loved so much. My lips parted and what seemed like an endless river of scarlet flowed past them.

I was telling Sam that it was okay between gasps and whimpers and grunts that passed between the times that blood was dripping past my lips. I knew though, that it wouldn't be okay. It would never be okay again. I had been stupid, so stupid. I had done something so incredibly stupid, and now both Sam and I would suffer the consequences. I shouldn't have done that. It was too late though, too late to take it back. There is still that nagging voice in the back of my mind that tells me I made the right choice, but the real suffering of the man in front of me is a much more reliable source. I made the wrong choice, again.

I had failed, just like always.

At least I won't ever fail ever again.

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 **There you go. A very tragic story if I may say so myself. I guess I'll just go hide in a corner now. Please review or favorite if you enjoyed. Goodbye.**


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